A MISGUIDED EXPERIMENT. 3-8-10
David Preston and Marion Montgomery got married a week after they’d both graduated from college. He’d taken two majors – Political Science and International Affairs and hers had been Geography.
He knew that he wanted to get into politics and he had a driving ambition to get to the top so he sought out a likely candidate for reelection to parliament and volunteered to join his team.
He worked harder, and longer, than anyone else and he got noticed and was invited to become one of the winner’s paid assistants. He continued to work harder than his colleagues and he volunteered for extra duties – even mundane things like picking up his boss’s children from school and taking his suits to the cleaners, and like that – and, consequently, he got to be ‘family’ and, a year before the next general election, he was encouraged to run for office himself in a safe area that was opened up for him.
At twenty-eight he became the youngest new member in parliament and his hard work
saw to it that the swiftness of his rise in the party – Minister this and Minister that – was unprecedented.
His wife, Marion, was much less ambitious. She didn’t look farther than becoming a teacher in a high school and she began to take courses that would get her a license but then she found that she’d gotten pregnant on her honeymoon and so she, with her husband’s full approval, decided to postpone her studies until some time in the vague future.
After her first child was born she learned about the pill from her Gynecologist and she saw to it that she was safely into the program before she’d let her husband get at her again and so she was able to, sensibly, see to it that there was a period of two and a half years before she gave birth to their second baby and the same amount of time before the third, and last, one came into the world.
When her husband became Prime Minister she saw even less of him than before because the hours of work that that job calls for is close to 24/7/52.
A slightly redeeming factor for them was that because the first family lives in the same big building that his offices are located in they could have their meals together much more often.
His party won the next election and so he stayed in the highest office and again his hard work paid off because just before he had to call the next general election – four and a half years later – his popularity remained high enough to practically ensure that the party that he led would win yet again.
However, a few months before the election had to be called he followed what is the regular procedure in politics and he hired a young man, who was the nephew of a colleague to whom he owed a large favor, as an assistant in his PR department.
The young man’s name was Georgio Walters and he insisted on being called ‘Georgio’ because his Italian mother was fond of it and he was very fond of her.
When the PM first cast eyes on him he was more than somewhat put out because he was very attractive, if not to say gorgeous. He had one of those angelic faces – like the actor Simon Baker – that make women quiver on sight and he wore his long blonde hair in a way that framed his face in what looked to be natural but that actually called for high maintenance.
* * *
Georgio’s father had met his mother while on a prolonged visit to Rome where he was supervising the installation of equipment in a new factory that produced rolled steel and she’d married him and had come back to England with him when his project had ended.
When it became obvious that his son wouldn’t, as he put, “ – be wanting to come into the heavy engineering business any time soon,” his father came home less and less often and eventually their inevitable divorce took place in a way that was as close to being painless to all parties as is possible.
Georgio had started to wear lipstick at eight and he liked to try on his mother’s dresses and jewelry and by the time that he got into high school he was flouncing and swishing with the best of them.
The four years went by fairly well for him because he remained indifferent to the merciless taunting and the incessant insults, and the rest of it, and although he got beaten up a few times in his first year that never happened again because he got to be wise enough to extend ‘benefits’ to succeeding bullies, as the years went by, in return for their protection. When, or if, one of them grew out of wanting anymore of his little ‘services’ he knew how to use his knowledge of their past weaknesses to extend his protection until they’d graduated, or had moved on, and by then he’d have ‘recruited’ a new FWB.
In his senior year his career councilor, who’d fully intended to look him up when he’d graduated and was over eighteen years old, told him that he’d never get into the college of his choice, even though his grades were excellent, if he didn’t tone down his flamboyance somewhat.
He went on to prove his case with some hard facts that made a lot of sense and so Georgio decided to follow his advice and he practiced wearing jeans – tailored of course – and a t-shirt and a jacket and regular shoes and socks and he had his hair cut so that he could only just make a pony tail with it and he practiced refraining from swishing and tried speaking in a ‘normal’ voice and, all in all, he dropped his campiness altogether.
His very high grades got him into a prestigious college and he did well in general and very well in his major – English Lit. – and he became BFWB with many of his fellow students and, particularly but ultra secretly, with one of his tutors.
That same tutor taught him how to detect incoming vibes at a party, or wherever, and how to zero in on their source and, when he’d mastered that, how to gage the strength of said vibes, and thus the amount of interest present, in relation to the distance involved. He followed that up by telling him what the protocol is after the connection has been made – it depends on the urgency involved in that if he wanted to, or had to, wait until the party had broken up then a simple and safe ploy was to ask, “Shall we share a taxi?” but if it got to be obvious to both parties that, as the bard has it, ‘If t’were done t’were best t’were done right fucking now,” he had to send over the universally accepted eye signal from where he was standing and then again from the doorway that he’d chosen as an exit and he wasn’t to look back until it was necessary to guide his new FWB to a safe room that he knew or out onto the street where, “Shall we share a taxi?” became operational, and highly functional, again.
When Georgio tried it all out for the first time by himself, and was successful, he was delighted because it saved him from wasting a huge amount of, uh, shall we say ‘unfruitful effort’?
* * *
On his first day at work in the PM’s PR office Georgio was careful to maintain his best, straight, behavior – secure in the knowledge that everything would come around in a few days as was usual for him – and all the females in his Department were very happy indeed to have him on board and they entertained lascivious, but sweet, thoughts about him whereas the suddenly insecure males despaired of ever making much of an impression with the girl or girls that they were lusting for, and pursuing, seeing how the only thing that she, or they, wanted to talk about was the splendidly attractive new employee.
That lamentable state of affairs only lasted for a few days because an extraordinary thing happened at lunchtime on his first Thursday there.
That was the day that the PM always made himself available to his staff at lunchtime by eating with them in the cafeteria and it was then that he saw Georgio for the first time.
Like all men he appreciated beauty wherever it came from and he had to force himself to keep from staring.
Later that day he asked his top assistant about ‘the new youth with the blonde hair’ and his file was put in front of him ten minutes later.
There was nothing remarkable in the file and so he put it aside and let the whole thing go, however, his oldest daughter got to see Georgio the following week at a press conference that had been called to boost her pet project, which was – uh – the caring of stray pets.
Georgio had been assigned the role of coordinator because no one else wanted to do it and he was the newest hire and so, on the designated day, he found himself sitting on the platform with Julia.
They chatted for a while before the microphones got switched on and they found that they liked each other and she was astonished at how well he’d briefed himself and was also pleased with him because they both had exactly similar Scotch Terriers except that his was black and hers was white – both of them were also fond of the Scotch whiskey that features the dogs on the label – and so she remembered him when, a few days later, he was sent into the family’s private quarters at lunch time with some last minute amendments to an important speech that the PM was working on.
She said hello and then asked him what was he doing there and he explained and so she let him go but ‘happened’ to be around a few minutes later when he was heading out and she invited him to have coffee with her.
Her mother was in the kitchen, a rare occurrence for her, when Julia led him there and, inevitably, she was instantly struck with his beauty and she saw to it that she was properly introduced and when he’d had coffee and had explained that he had to get back to work the two women let him go, reluctantly, and they exchanged looks and then, without the need for any discussion, they started in on scheming to get him permanently assigned to the household staff as a PR assistant or some such.
Julia didn’t have enough clout to get him assigned to her, non-existent, staff but the PM’s wife did and a suitable title was thought up for Georgio and, as they’d guessed it would, with him at their side every event that they graced with their presence from then on brought far more attention to their cause, mainly from female journalists, than before.
Julia, whose relationship with her boy friend had reached shaky ground, quickly realized – to her huge disappointment – that not only had he never had a girlfriend but also that he never would and she found that out one evening when they were being driven home late one night from a dinner party that had been yet another fund raiser for a charity and she’d had a little too much inhibition-dimming champagne and had reached over and had brought his hand in direct contact with her décolletage but, instead of delving in to liberate some soft, delectable flesh and then falling on it from a great height and delivering a multitude of kisses before searching out the nipple for special attention, he pulled his hand free and, if she could have brought herself to believe it was possible, he let a sound come out of his mouth, something akin to “Arrch!” that was closely related to disgust and was totally dismissive.
She was humiliated and he knew it so – to repair broken fences and to keep his cushy job – he ‘fessed up at once as to which gender it was that interested him and that mollified her somewhat.
She saw to it that her mother got to know about it too and she was delighted to hear it – she had no interest in him ‘that’ way because the very idea of being unfaithful to her husband would never have even occurred to her – because, although she had no idea and wouldn’t even let herself conjecture as to what gay men did to, and for, each other, she did know that females of any age were safe with them and from that she knew that she could relax and let him escort Julia and/or her sixteen year old sister – but not her nineteen year old son – anywhere and everywhere and at anytime and that even their bedrooms weren’t necessarily off limits.
Because of that Georgio soon got to be thought of as a part of the family and he ate lunch with them regularly and dinner several times in the week and was often asked to go along and augment the secret service escorts as a closer, and more intimate, chaperone when the girls had dates.
Because the PM and his wife were obviously happy with the arrangement the head of Georgio’s department was too and so, after a few months, he, Georgio, was ‘detached from his regular duties’ which meant that he was allowed to report directly to the household every morning and stay there all day and could go home from there, or wherever, without having to report to his office.
Whenever he was invited to have dinner in the family’s private dining room, which was around three times every week, he’d find himself sitting across from the PM, because the table was round, and although he always received strong vibes from him his efforts to get him to respond to the ones that he sent back – increased in strength many times over – always failed completely to generate any increase in The Man’s emissions.
Over time he reluctantly accepted the fact that the reason for that was that his biggest ambition, as it had to be for every unattached gay man in the whole country, was to get to be the catcher for the most powerful man in the country and so it was understandable that he was receiving vibes from him at all times. When that became clear to him he had to accept the fact that his own vibes weren’t being registered because the PM wasn’t inclined that way at all, at all.
“What a pity!” he’d say out loud every time that he acknowledged the sad truth and then he’d try to dismiss his disappointment from his mind.
One day, three months or so after starting his new job, they were all having a cocktail before a late dinner and Julia had giggled and rolled her eyes when she heard her father, to fill an awkward moment, ask Georgio if he had a steady girl friend. Her reaction puzzled the PM but he was sensitive enough to know that he’d touched on something fundamental and so he let it go but later, after saying goodbye to Georgio, he took his daughter to one side and he asked her why she’d giggled.
“Da-a-ad! Why do you think Mom let’s him spend so much unsupervised time with us?”
“Why does your Mother – – – ? Uh, I don’t know. Tell me please.”
“Da-a-ad! He’s gay. He’s a darling and he’s fun to be with and he’s really good looking but he’s got zero interest in us or in any other women.”
“Really? He is? Oh my word! He’s one of them and he’s working for me? Well, what next? I won’t have . . . ah, but wait. Oh, I see. That’s very clever of your mother, right? He can escort you two everywhere without the chance of – uh – complications setting in.”
A few weeks later they were all sitting at the dinner table and the PM was tired and depressed because he’d been trying to get a bill that was important to him accepted for many weeks by then but various details in it were being objected to over and over which made for tedious re-workings by him and his staff.
Besides that, he hadn’t liked the experimental nouveau-cuisine meal that had been put in front of him and so he’d just mixed it up on his plate to make it look as if he’d eaten some and then he pushed it away and concentrated on getting most of a bottle of wine into his stomach in an effort to kick-start an interest in the conversation that was going on all around him.
However, the wine made him feel mellower instead of livelier and so he sat back and looked at his family as they ate and because he wasn’t wearing his rose-colored, fond-parent glasses at that moment he could see plainly that his son was a pimply-faced youth with spiky hair and non-descript clothes who had no attractive features nor much in the way of a personality and who had, for several years by then, refused to eat anything, at any meal, that didn’t bear a close resemblance to an Irish breakfast.
His youngest daughter hadn’t eaten anything except cereals and macaroni-and-cheese ever since she’d been around eight years old when she’d found out where lambs and pigs and calves actually end up when they’ve been ‘sent to market.’
Her complexion showed it.
His eldest daughter had split up with her long time boy friend a month or so earlier and she was still very unhappy about it and she’d quit dieting and was looking to find comfort in food and so the only phrase that properly described her nowadays was the cruel one, ‘thunder-thighs.’
His wife was experiencing middle-age spread and so she’d taken to wearing pant suits because she thought, and she thought wrongly, that they disguised her large thighs and hid her massive bottom. It came to him, as he looked at her figure, that it had somehow gone from ‘regular’ to ‘formidable’ without pausing at ‘fabulous.’
When he’d completed his survey he emptied his wine glass and poured more and emptied that too, in short order, and then, seeing that he’d emptied the bottle, he began to cast longing eyes at the decanter of whiskey that was on the side board.
He then looked over at Georgio and he liked what he saw and he found comfort from doing so.
“Wholesome” and “attractive” were the words that came to his mind.
He was sitting between the two girls and was wearing a wonderfully well-cut suit and his nicely knotted tie and his shirt matched it perfectly. Also, his cologne was pleasing and discrete but was also, somehow, strong enough to be detectable clear across the table. He then studied his face and he saw, as if for the first time, that his features were flawless and were framed, becomingly, by a mass of blond hair. Also, he had a constant smile on his face and, on top of all that, it was evident that not only was he keeping everyone at the table amused, as usual, but he was also clearly a good listener when that was called for. He was, overall, brimming with good will and charm and, God help us, thought the PM, bonhomie.
It was at that same time that Georgio realized that the great man was sending out stronger than usual vibes, albeit vague and unfocussed ones which told him that there was more affection than lovely lust in them, in his direction. He automatically responded in kind and was delighted when that resulted in magnifying the incoming vibes and so soon, between them, they found that they’d set up an ever-increasing-in-intensity, decidedly non-aggressive, cycle of mutual interest. The message got to be so strong that it, as it always does, caused a tingling up their spines and although Georgio was well accustomed to experiencing that, and was delighted to be doing so once again, it baffled his boss.
He did, however, know exactly where the mysterious vibes were coming from and they continued to intrigue him.
When he could leave the table without causing resentment he took up the afore- mentioned whiskey carafe and, after passing a rapid eye-message to Georgio, he announced that he had to get back to work and he went to his study where he sat down and drank some whisky as he tried to analyze, with excitement but also with some apprehension, what had just happened and what might its possible implications turn out to be.
Georgio had seen the amount of wine that the great man had drunk and how he’d taken the whisky with him when he’d left the room, and so, knowing that he’d need as much help as he could get, he gave him time to guzzle a few glasses of Dutch courage and then he too excused himself and he slipped away and went to the study.
He tapped on the door and then entered without waiting for an invitation to do so – he knew very well that he’d already been given one – and the look of need, nearly swamped by apprehension, that was showing in the PM’s eyes confirmed his supposition.
After locking the door Georgio approached the desk and he brushed aside the offer of a drink and instead of sitting on one of the chairs that was in front of the desk he picked the nearest one up and he carried it around the desk and put it down close to the PM’s high-backed leather one. He then sat on it and – knowing that words and kisses and caresses would be totally inappropriate, even counter-productive, at that stage – because of his extensive experiences in like circumstances he was sure about the correct way to proceed and so he locked eyes with The Man and, seeing the apprehension again but no animosity in them, he put his hand on his upper thigh and, after a pause of two or three seconds to be sure that neither anger or revulsion showed itself, he moved it on up until he got to feel a rapidly expanding erection and – now sure of himself and pleased that the two reliable old adages, both of which were often utilized by him, had proven-out yet again: The sailor’s one; “A drunken cock carries no steaming lights,” and the one that applies to all males; “Men will follow their erections wherever they lead,” – he then used both hands to free up, and fully expose, what he’d been touching.
He applied a little rubbing action to alert his ‘ward’s’ blood as to what was in the offing and, that done and acknowledged appropriately with some gasps of raw need and an involuntary arching upward of the lower spine, he moved his head over and down and, a few seconds later, he’d sealed the deal unequivocally.
The whole thing had called for expert timing but he was an expert and when he was sure that he’d been handed complete control of The Man’s lower brain – that showed itself when the spine-arching became more severe and the gasps became “Oh! Aaahh’s” – he changed his grip so that he could pull on it to make its owner stand up and then he changed his grip again and he used it like a tiller to maneuver him around to the front of the desk.
Georgio used one of his hands to make himself ready while the other one kept the instrument, that he was by then nearly frantic to accommodate, fully interested and then he picked the right moment to whisper, “Come. Let’s do it. Trust me, you’ll love it,” and then he quickly applied a little lubricant, a stock-in-trade, before bending over the desk and he had to offer some help as to direction but none at all as to encouragement to get the action started.
The PM had never before experienced such intense pleasure and he thought that what he was getting had to be the maximum amount possible that a human being could be subjected to but when his belly and thighs smacked up against his receiver’s buttocks he was astounded to find that it triggered his base, primal, brain-stem – or whatever – into kicking in something that was so fundamental to his well-being that it over-rode the intense pleasure and let him experience something that was revelatory in itself and, as the action continued, its repeated boosts aided his pleasure and lifted him close to euphoria.
When the deed had been done Georgio supported his pitcher until he had regained some strength in his knees and then he eased him off and over to the nearest chair. He then used the wetted towel that he’d brought with him – another stock-in-trade – so as to not gross him out when he became aware of the world around him again and, that done, he ‘rearranged his clothing’ and his own and then he took himself off well pleased with himself.
Much later on, when he’d come to and had swallowed a generous amount of whisky, the PM could hardly believe that he’d actually done ‘that’ and he kept asking himself what could have triggered it but all the while he was remembering how wonderfully intense the action had been from beginning to end and, especially, the multiple abrupt mini-endings.
When he was in bed later that night he had time to think and to assemble and assess the stepping-stones of his life, the sensual aspects of it, in an attempt to understand his recent, potentially life-changing action.
* * *
He’d always been conservative in all things, as was his wife, and so although they’d brought three children into the world they’d never done much experimenting in the sexual arena and what they did do couldn’t possibly be confused with making love.
One day, after drinking far too much gin, his wife had confessed to him that whenever she looked back on her honeymoon – they’d partially fumbled away each other’s virginities several times in the months that had preceded it, or they thought that they had – the words that came to her mind – after, ‘Oh God! How stupid I was to leave the protection part up to him’ – were, ‘Soreness in two places.’
They’d both found out about having sex by having sex and, unfortunately for her, whenever he got an erection he put the same drive into ‘getting it done’ as he did into everything else in his life and because of that he disdained all forms of love play except for giving her a few harder than usual kisses as a warning that he wanted to mount her again.
“To go on with this confession,” she said, “just about all that I got out of our week in The Azores, besides being impregnated that is, was a sore vagina along with a sore lower lip because of having to bite it all-through your every assault to keep myself from calling you ugly names and telling you something like, ‘Get off me and leave me alone you nasty, horrible, insatiable animal of a man.’ ”
After the last of their children had been born their love life eased off until it had settled into an arrangement in which Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings were their designated times to have their bouts with Nature. He would have preferred to let their sessions be ‘spontaneous’ – she wouldn’t have minded a bit if they’d been allowed to drop away to ‘never’ – but she couldn’t rid her mind of the dire warning that one of her grandmothers had given her the first time that she’d seen her after her honeymoon, “He’s a man – right? Well child, please believe me when I tell you that, like all men, he’ll have to get some – uh – relief regularly from somewhere and if you don’t see to it that he gets it at home he’ll go out looking for it, sure as eggs.”
Because of that she’d insisted on their keeping to the – uh – laid-down schedule and, because he’d never given her the slightest reason to suspect him of hanky-panky over all those years, she’d regularly blessed her grandmother’s name for her good advice.
* * *
A few weeks after he’d begun to regularly lock his study door behind himself and Georgio, his wife told him that she, and the whole family, knew what was going on – because of the noises that they heard when they were in the passageway and because of the looks that the two of them passed back and fore and the not-as-secret-as-you-think touches – and that she was both baffled and disgusted with him and that although she’d been sleeping in her own bed every night for years by then she told him that it would no longer be because of his snoring. She also told him that their designated get-togethers were suspended indefinitely even though she knew that that piece of news wouldn’t faze him much because he hadn’t shown any interest much less had he ‘risen to the occasion’ the last dozen times, or so, that she’d dutifully ‘visited’ him in his bed on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings.
After being told that he tried to be much more discrete but he couldn’t give up on searching for euphoria with Georgio’s help even though he’d begun to realize that every time that he attempted to find it, at the same address, he was a little less successful than he had been the time before.
He started to wonder how could he improve his chances of getting close to nirvana again.
Being the most powerful man in the entire country meant that he came in contact with many acolytes and some of them were of a persuasion that allowed them to pick up on his changed orientation and they gradually got bolder and bolder with sending out signals of their own.
Inevitably, one afternoon he received some really strong vibes from a highly presentable young man and, when they’d established a rapport and an understanding, he made arrangements for them to secretly meet up in a motel and he was delighted and consequently quite sure that he’d found the answer to his quest.
At their second get-together he was profoundly disappointed when he experienced a marked drop off in his responses and although he lavished praise on his new partner he broke off their relationship right then – to Georgio’s delight.
He apologized and tried to be Georgio’s partner alone but he couldn’t do so for more than a few weeks before he was driven to go searching again. He found no shortage of willing partners but it wasn’t long before he acknowledged to himself that all of them, no matter how comely and skilled, could only produce what he was looking for one time only and so from then on he made it clear to them all that their liaisons would be one night stands only.
Inevitably, his changed status became known to his Cabinet Ministers and other officials and, although his wife stayed loyal, it got to the point where the other party leaders knew that had to decide on what could be done to ensure their re-election and what they came up with was to give the Deputy Leader authorization to give him, the PM, an ultimatum.
What he came up with was – “Mr. Prime Minister, Sir, the people of this country will forgive a lot of – uh – nasty habits that their Prime Minister might develop, or reveal to have inherently, but not included in that list are: Pederasty and incest and animal cruelty and criticism of the Queen and, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Sir, certainly not blatant homosexuality either. And so, Sir, I’m authorized to tell you that your cabinet has decided, unanimously, that you must either get straight in a hurry or quit your position as leader of our party. This is Friday and we want you to go to your country house for the weekend and consider your future and when you come back on Monday you must either assure us that you’ll sleep only with your wife from now on or, failing that, you must give us a signed letter of resignation. This, as you surely know, is for the good of the party and the country.”
They went to their country house and he was distraught and didn’t eat anything to go with a large amount of whisky and when his wife was in bed later on she heard him walking, walking and when, in the morning, she went into the kitchen to make breakfast for herself she found him sitting on a chair at the table and he was fast asleep with his head on his crossed arms.
She didn’t wake him because she figured that any kind of sleep had to be far better than none at all and she ate some palette-cleaning melon cubes with her fingers as the coffee was brewing and then she prepared a bowl of cereal and she took it, along with a mug of coffee, to the dining room so as to not disturb her husband.
She knew what was at stake because the Cabinet had deemed it necessary to inform her about the circumstances so that she could, perhaps, comfort him somehow and use her influence to avoid a catastrophe for the country – and, not least, also for the party itself, seeing that their chances of maintaining a majority wholly depended on his continuing as leader.
She really, really didn’t want to become an ex-first-lady and so she worked hard on thinking of a way to make him come to his senses and eventually she came to realize that it all came down to what this ‘gay’ business meant to him. It surely had to be very important seeing that he was loathe to renounce it even if it meant losing the job that he was made for and that he loved above all else.
She decided that she’d better find out about it right away so, after taking her dirty dishes to the sink, she went into his study and she fired up his PC and she Googled ‘Porn/Gay’ and two seconds later she was offered more than ninety-three thousand sites to chose from.
That was a daunting number but she got started and she found that while the sites that she picked were all overly demanding with their insistence that she ‘Sign in’ – she had enough sense to not do that – she eventually got to understood that the attached links were a quick way in. She did so and some of them nearly bowled her over with outright rawness.
She forced herself to study the revolting things that men can get up to with each other – “Disgusting things” as Gertrude Stein famously put it – but she found that she could keep at it for no more than two or three minutes. Even so, in that short time, she believed that she’d been able to capture the essence of gay practices.
She stayed out of the Great Man’s way all through that Saturday morning and afternoon and then, after dinner – which he didn’t eat – she went to her room after clearing away and putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher – they’d told all the servants to stay away until Monday – and she girded her loins, as it were, and decided that she had to go through with the truly drastic form of action that she’d decided on. She told herself that it was for the good of her family and for the good of the party and for the good of the country and for the incomparably good perks.
She knew that she had to do it soon, before he could get sodden with whisky again, so a little while later she went downstairs and she found him trying, but failing, to pay attention to the late news on TV. She walked over and stood between him and the screen and when he looked up in annoyance she said, “Darling, I’m going up to bed now but I want to tell you something before I go.”
She walked over to him and leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You do know, don’t you, that women have an anus too?”
Her statement hit him in the chest like a blow from a fist – even her use of the operative word was a big surprise to him – and, by referring to his ‘problem’ directly and thus showing that she obviously knew what the act entails, she also astonished him.
After a quarter of an hour in which he, in turn: Dismissed the possibility out of hand; Thought out the practicality of her offer; Pondered on whether or not the sex of the receiver matters to the giver; Pondered on whether or not the sex of the receiver should matter to the receiver; Decided that although it surely should matter to the receiver it didn’t seem to matter to him; Got excited about the project and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom holding himself with one hand and the handrail with the other.
There was only one bedside light on in her room and she was naked and under the covers and when she saw that he fully intended to take her up on her offer she instinctively guessed that, being in that frame of mind, he probably wouldn’t want to see a blatant display of her womanliness so she reached for her nightgown and as she sat up she held it so that it covered her breasts and belly and then she got out of bed and she turned her back to him and, with resolution but also with a good deal of apprehension, she bent over and supported her upper body with her arms.
He gasped out loud because it was as if he was seeing her formidably attractive, round, smooth bottom for the first time ever and that was partly because it was the first time that he’d seen it being held up in the air and partly because, knowing that it was being proffered for utilitarian purposes, he saw that it couldn’t possibly be too big or too wide or too full seeing that it was about to be promoted from its long time role as a secondary sexual characteristic to a primary one and, by definition, there could never be too much of one of those.
Seeing it waiting for him, with all its promise, made him hurry to get naked and then he applied lubrication, strategically, and then he closed with her.
There came an awkward moment or two at that point in the proceedings because she didn’t know that she was supposed to reach back and guide him but when he’d pointed out what her duty was, in a tone of voice that she’d never heard him use before, she reached back and grasped it and when she had full control of its business end another wicked thought came to her – later on she recognized, gratefully, that that second one was even more inspired than her first one had been – and she acted on it at once by making it change course at the last split second and she piloted it up to the entrance of her vagina and then she pushed her body back until the connection was secured.
When he felt the end of it being welcomed he got on with the required thrusting and, although he found it puzzling that he’d found very little resistance to getting access, the overall pleasure and relief that he was getting made him put all other considerations aside and he concentrated on getting the job done.
His ‘eureka’ moment came at the very second that he’d driven all the way into her and, consequently, his belly and upper thighs had come, forcefully, into full and direct contact with her buttocks and the shock that that gave him made him pause and hold still, hard up against her, because such marvelous things happen rarely in our lives.
* * *
Well now, that isn’t a bit surprising – is it? – when you remember that our ancestors have been doing the act in that way for around two million years and that is easily long enough for all human beings to have had it incorporated it into their genetic make-up. However, for the male, getting the exact angle of approach is essential to trigger the ultimate response and the correct angle is impossible to achieve if there isn’t a woman on the receiving end. That time, for him, a woman was catching for him and so our Prime Minister was lost in wonder and, also, in that same second, he realized what it was that, up to then, had kept driving him to try out new male partners in his continuing search for the ultimate experience and why he’d never before experienced the full satisfaction that Mother Nature automatically gives to men when she is not being mocked.
* * *
When he started going at it again he reached around the front of his wife to be able to grab her shoulders to pull on them to aid him with his thrusting but, en passant, his hands encountered two objects that were hanging nicely and heavily and they not only fitted his hands perfectly but holding them just so was delightful and then he found that by pulling on them appropriately he was able to speed up and get in more strokes to the minute and that, consequently, let him generate more of the ‘slap, slap, slap’ noises that, every one of which, gave him an unbelievable amount of extra pleasure to his every stroke.
When it was over his knees were too weak to support him so he rested on his wife’s willing and contented back and, while he was doing that it came to him, through his euphoria, that the public was not only right but very wise too to reject out of hand a leader who’d be foolish enough to keep on practicing homosexuality after experiencing what he just had.
When they were in bed together, and he’d recovered sufficiently, he was so delighted with her that he reined praises and kisses on her and when that phase had run its course he smoothed her belly and played with her pubic hair for a while and then he turned her away so that they could take up the spoon position and he sought out his favorite breast and then went to sleep even though it was only around ten o’clock.
She didn’t want to sleep – he’d been the one who had been so worried that he hadn’t gotten much of it lately – and she knew that she couldn’t stay where she was because his stentorian snoring would inevitably start up sooner or later so, when he was properly settled, she eased away from him and she put her gown on and went into the bathroom to douche.
That done she took up a toothbrush and loaded it and as she was lifting it up to her mouth she looked into the mirror and what she saw in her eyes made her pause and, because she was still proud and content with her cleverness and because it amused her to reminisce and because she had all the time in the world to do so, she leaned her belly on the edge of the bowl and let it all come back.
* * *
She’d seen that same look many times in her life, mostly in the eyes of the prize cows that her father, who was a gentleman farmer and was rich enough to not have to bother with working his land on a regular basis, was experimenting with. He also bred several other animals including horses and sheep and dogs.
She wasn’t allowed into the barn where the actual mounting took place but when it was the cows’ turn to be inseminated she’d hang around with the ones that were ‘on hold’ in a pen outside the barn because she knew the names of everyone of them and they were always so restless and agitated that she was concerned for them and so she’d try, and she always succeeded, to comfort them with her presence.
She’d see the already serviced cows as they were driven out of the shed, and sent on their way back to the fields, and she’d have seen the same cows a little earlier when the farmhands had come to collect them, one at a time, for servicing and she could always see clearly that the looks in their eyes were very different at each time.
With the about-to-be-serviced ones she’d see apprehension – they’d have all been hearing, for some time by then, each already selected and hauled away cow mooing with fear until it got to be mounted and then thumped into silence and they’d also have been smelling the several bulls and hearing them carrying on and snorting and roaring as they reveled in what had to have been seventh heaven for them – but also a strange impatience in their eyes until it got to be their turn to be singled out and forced into the shed.
The already serviced ones would show contentment in their eyes that was no doubt partly due to relief seeing that their ordeal was over but mostly because of what was happening to their systems after having been injected, naturally, with semen. Their drastically changed status clearly calmed them and also seemed to have gotten them to settle more fully into their lot in life. They seemed to know that they only had to keep on keeping on before something else would happen to them that would be even more fundamentally satisfying than the strange, and at first potentionally dangerous looking, procedure that they’d just been subjected to.
The other, much more compelling, instance of her coming face to face with contentment in an animal’s eyes had come after her mother had persuaded her father to let her keep the Chocolate Labrador puppy that she’d fallen in love with that was in one of the litters that he’d bred. He was reluctant to let her have it because he had high hopes for that particular female and he finally agreed but only on condition that she, Marion, understood, and acknowledged, that he could take it back without a fuss when it was older enough to be bred and when he’d found a suitable mate for it.
The bitch had a three-barrel name, to proclaim her pedigree, but Marion called it Baby Blue because it looked both sweet and melancholy.
They got to be nearly inseparable and the puppy grew into adulthood fully accustomed to sharing Marion’s food and to sleeping alongside her in her bed.
One day Marion was sent into town on an errand and as soon as she reached for her coat Baby Blue, as usual, came out of a seemingly deep sleep and raced for the back door.
Her mother stopped Marion as she was passing through the kitchen and told her that she’d better keep her pet on a leash because she’d noticed that she’d come into heat for the first time.
She took a short cut through a neighbor’s field and a half way across her pet suddenly took it into her head to stop stock-still and then, more puzzling still, she locked her legs squarely and rigidly right where they were and defied all efforts to get her to start walking again.
Marion didn’t understand what was going on until she heard, and then saw, a scruffy, mixed-breed working dog that, she believed, belonged to the family named Bellow who was employed by the owner of the farm that the field was a part of, coming towards her as fast as it could move.
It ignored Marion and went straight to her pet and it licked her hindquarters a couple of times, strategically, and then, seeing that full compliance was already established, it rolled its eyes and smirked with anticipated pleasure and wasted no time before mounting her.
Marion knew what was going on, of course, and she nearly fainted with embarrassment – and would have done so if there’d been anybody to see her having to stand there like a voyeur and wait until the act was completed – but then she remembered what plans her father had for the Lab and that brought her out of her funk PDQ and she shouted at the dog and tried to ‘rescue’ her pet from getting violated by pulling on the leash.
It was in vain because both animals were, of course, determined to get on with it and so they joined forces to resist her and were able to maintain their position for long enough to allow penetration to take place. However, the pain that that caused her made Baby Blue try to jump clear of the pumping dog but it had her hindquarters locked in place with its two front legs so she only succeeded in getting him to disengage for a second or two and then he closed up with her again and maneuvered back into place and then started working away as before.
The same thing happened twice more and Marion began to despair but then Mother Nature somehow took a hand and the deed got to be done.
After that the dog wanted to pull out, of course, but, as sometimes happens especially if the bitch is a virgin, he found it impossible to do so and in its struggles it twisted away awkwardly and they wound up still locked together but facing away from each other.
Marion became almost beside herself with embarrassment and rage but, lacking a bucket of cold water, there was nothing that she could do about it, except keep on waiting around feeling like some kind of a hand maiden, and her discomfort wasn’t ameliorated one little bit when she saw that the dog’s eyes were showing total indifference and even boredom even though it had just successfully mounted her darling, highly pedigreed bitch and, in her opinion, should have been bursting with pride and triumph.
After a few minutes – they’d seemed like hours to Marion – the dog was able to pull clear and it promptly plonked its hindquarters down onto the grass and then it licked at its highly-vulnerable-looking, very red penis until it had fully sheathed itself and then it sloped off in the direction of the farmhouse where it had come from without so much as a backward glance.
Baby Blue was in pain and so she needed more time to lick herself but, at last, it allowed itself to be pulled to its feet and then it followed Marion meekly.
By the time that they’d arrived at the style that was near the road into town Marion had gotten over her embarrassment and had come to terms with what had happened – she’d told herself, ‘They’re only animals after all,’ – but she still wanted to remonstrate with her pet because if the same thing had happened in the high street she didn’t know what she would have done.
She lifted up its muzzle to get its full attention but she didn’t get to say one harsh word to it because when she looked into its eyes she saw that there was a vast contentment in them – way beyond her comprehension – that had never been there before and she’d been looking into those same eyes ever since Baby Blue had been a new-born puppy.
Her father somehow knew what had happened the moment that he set eyes on Baby Blue that evening and he was very angry and he told her that its blood was ‘compromised’ and was now ‘bad’ and therefore useless to him. He banished it from his kennels and Marion, who no longer wanted to have anything to do with the animal after being so badly humiliated and shamed by it, had to feed and look after it until its four pups were born. Her father waited until they were weaned and then he gave them away to various people in town and by then he’d already gotten his vet to spay Baby Blue so that it couldn’t breed again nor attract another male.
Marion eventually fobbed Baby Blue off to a fellow student who knew nothing about things like ‘contaminated blood lines’ and who was very grateful for being given such an expensive and handsome animal.
* * *
When Marion had brushed her teeth on the night of her triumph she looked at some TV and then she went to her bed but not before setting her alarm for five o’clock so as to be able to get up and get naked again and then slip into her husband’s bed and be there for him when he woke up and remembered what was what and, she’d bet good money on it, would want to do it that way again, post haste.
On the Monday morning Marion asked her husband for permission, and got it at once, to telephone the Personnel Administrator and tell him that he was to take Georgio back into the PR general pool that same day.
She then called Georgio and told him directly that he was to pack up all of the personal belongings of his that were at their house and then report to his immediate boss where he would be assigned new duties. She reminded him that he was under oath to not reveal anything that related to the PM or to his family during the time that he’d been assigned to them exclusively.
Her last words to him were only, “Goodbye, Georgio,” but venom dripped from every syllable.
When they were both sitting in the car that had come for them, to drive them back to the city and to his important meeting, Marion waited until the security man, who was sitting next to the driver, had opened the automatic gates to the estate and had closed them again when they’d gone through and had then raised the armored, sliding-glass partition that protected passengers in the rear and gave them privacy, and then she turned to her husband to tell him something amusing that had come to her that morning at breakfast but she turned too quickly and she received a jolt of pain in her vitals. She was immediately angry with herself for forgetting that she was far too sore to so much as stir without discomfort no matter about twisting her hips around, although, in truth, she partially welcomed the nagging pain because it served well to keep her recent triumph at the front of her mind.
The soreness was the result of having had to endure, and to participate in, all of the serious, but mostly blessedly conventional, make-up sex that her husband had insisted on and had kept on insisting on throughout Sunday up to dinner time and then, when they’d eaten, it had been straight back to bed for both of them for more of the same.
When the pain had abated a little she leaned over, slowly, so that she could whisper into his ear, “Darling,” she said, “what a huge difference an inch can make!” and then she successfully suppressed a chortle, because the driver and the security man might have heard it and she suspected that it would have been an earthy one and wouldn’t have been first-lady-like at all, but she couldn’t do anything about her blushes.